


It Was Love Nonetheless

by OthilaOdal



Category: Death Note
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Chocolate, Deathfic, Detectives, Discovery, Falling In Love, Fear, First Crush, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, M/M, Orphanage, Orphans, Prodigies, Requited Love, Rivalry, Roommates, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 12:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OthilaOdal/pseuds/OthilaOdal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After wrapping up the Kira case, Near receives a message from a very much dead Mello giving to him the terms and plans to rescue a very much dead Matt from prison. Tracking the address Near goes to Matt and Mello’s shared flat to give them a proper goodbye, where he discovers the truth of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: Cupboard Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a two chapter fic. It's actually my first one here on AOO/OWN  
> I hope someone ends up enjoying this.  
> I do not own Death Note.  
> This fic is also found on FFN where I am registered under the username "Okirimono".

## Chapter 1: Cupboard Love

The screen glared a cold dull blue on Near’s face as he stared down at the open word document. The room was a yin yang of neat and mess, carefulness and carelessness, composure and wreckage, Mello and Matt. Near wasn’t sure why he had come here himself but he had wanted to say his goodbyes properly out of respect for Matt and Mello’s contributions to the Kira case. He had been quite surprised when Ridner had handed him a package that she said had been addressed to her apartment but clearly marked “For Near” in Mello’s neat handwriting. 

In the letter Mello had explained his plans for Takada, said that he hoped Kira had panicked and made a wrong move to aid Near’s investigation. “Whether he has or hasn’t, I’ve got terms and conditions for you.” Mello’s cursive handwriting said. “I will deliver Takada to you and make any and all risky moves for you on three, not very hard to follow, conditions:

1\. Grant me protection from the government for a couple of months after the Kira case wraps up. You’ll be L, so I’m sure you can manage this.  
2\. In these two months, clear my records permanently so I may move out of this dingy place and go back to England. Again, being L, this shouldn’t be difficult.  
3\. Get Matt out of prison. This you must work on immediately after receiving this letter. Takada will not be delivered to you unless you’ve successfully managed this. At this point I’m not even sure if  
Matt will end up in jail but either way unless his freedom is ensured you will not get Takada. On the next few pages, I have attached plans for this and blueprints of several prison facilities all over Japan. Make whatever changes you want to the plans but make sure he gets out of there.”

Usually, Near wouldn’t bother filling up his brain with unnecessary information but he made an exception and read through the plans trying not to think about how pointless all of them were. Mello had thought it through and made impressive plans but Near wasn’t surprised that Mello had overlooked a detail; they might not make it out alive. 

And they hadn’t. 

Matt had died in the streets of Japan riddled with bullets. And Mello’s charred body or whatever was left of it was retrieved once the fire in the abandoned church where he had died was put out. In the back of the Delivery Van Mello was driving was the charred body of the woman he had kidnapped. Everyone had cursed at Mello. Some of Kira’s ruthless followers had gone so far as to beat at the remains of Mello’s blackened body out of anger breaking his bones so that white jutted out at odd angles from his now mangled dark flesh. He was, according to them, the one who had killed Takada.

“Both of them must have been mentally ill.” The news had said, in regards to Matt and Mello not even attempting to hide the biased nature of their opinions. “But it grieves me to say that it is true that these two suicidal maniacs have claimed the life of our beloved Miss Takada. The dental records confirm that the body found in the back of the van was Miss Takada’s. After the crowd’s eruption it is impossible to tell who the man driving the van was. The other man, who aided in Miss Takada’s kidnapping, was shot to death but unfortunately nothing on him gave off his identity. He seems to have no dental or thumb print records. According to sources, even his driving license has been confirmed to be, and I quote, a top notch fake.”

In the end, they had, in the heart of Tokyo, burned whatever remained of Mello’s body and thrown Matt’s limp naked body into the fire. The streets had come alive with the smell of burning flesh.

Near’s expression was as plain as ever and he didn’t display any fear or sadness at going through his dead companions’ possessions. 

“Companions? Is that the right word? Does it matter what the right word is?” He thought, staring at Matt’s laptop screen.

Near and Mello had never had what you would call a positive relationship. But his relationship with Matt had been different. Matt was like Mello when it came to several things; his need for excitement, his emotional attachments, his dedication, etcetera. But they were opposites when it came to several things; Matt couldn’t take many things seriously while Mello took everything seriously, Matt had a short attention span while Mello was the most attentive person you’d ever meet. Matt barely ever got angry while sometimes it was impossible to find Mello in a good mood. Matt could never keep a grudge while Mello could never forgive. 

There were several other things but it were the differences between them that helped Near’s relationship with Matt. Not that he was looking to have a positive relationship with the goggled redhead, mind you. It’s just that Matt insisted on being nice to Near, which Near suspected was because of how mean Mello was to him. Near recalled clearly the day he had gotten into a fight with Mello over some scientific debate in class. Mello and Near’s theories were in stark contrast of each other and there was no way to prove that either of them were right or wrong without spending millions of euros and several years on projects, which, insanely enough, Mello was willing to do. 

Mello had lost his cool when Near had refused to work on the projects and ran into Near, rammed his shoulder in the white haired boy’s ribs, slammed the kid’s back into the teacher’s table. Near had kicked and bit and clawed at the blonde’s beautiful bronzed skin only to receive a punch on his cheek. Matt had come to Near’s rescue. He had yanked Mello off Near’s fidgeting body and taken a punch on the nose and another in the eye from Mello without any resistance. Near had been surprised that Matt would care to save someone from Mello and yet not save himself from Mello’s wrath. Mello had clearly thought the same, for he had immediately thrown in the towel after the punch he had landed on Matt’s eye and left. 

“You okay, dude?” Matt’s voice had been nasal as he nursed a bleeding nose.

Near had nodded.

“Don’t mind Mello.” The redhead’s bottle green eyes were fixed on the door from where Mello had noisily exited not long ago. “I mean…I know he was wrong….he knows as well…he’s just very…physical….and all he sees is red.” That was Matt, always making excuses and apologizing for Mello, trying for the whole world to see a light in Mello that only he could see.

To think that Matt was now dead…..

….would have sent shivers down anyone’s spine. But Near sat there staring at the word document, that Matt had left open, as if nothing was wrong. He started reading….

>   
> _26th January, 2010_
> 
> **Matt’s Journal Entry #198**
> 
> Where do I begin? I don’t think this even counts as a journal entry. It’s more like a confession. He keeps telling me they won’t shoot at me. “They’re going to need you to get to me. They’ll arrest you or something and I’ll get you out once I’m finished with this.”
> 
> When he says it, it makes sense….but I don’t really believe it. “You’re dead, dude.” My brain keeps saying. “Game over, bro.”
> 
> I have a choice, I know. I can turn him down, tell him I won’t do it. And then his plan would fail and he’ll never get ahead of Near. He’ll never forgive me. He’ll never look at me again. He’ll leave like he did all those years back. Without a word, he would disappear from my life. And that will be the end of our age-old friendship.
> 
> Friendship…..yeah right. It’s anything but that. That’s how it started though. But I had to go and ruin it by falling for him. I knew he never returned my feelings. I always knew he didn’t love me the way I loved him but for some reason I hoped he would….someday. And it had been the blinding glare of that flame of hope that had, at the age of fourteen, led me into telling my best friend that I couldn’t stop thinking about him, that my heart fluttered at the mention of his name [or alias…whatever you prefer], that my skin came alive at the slightest brushes against his.
> 
> Well….that’s not what I had told him….but that’s what I had been implying. What I had told him was rather blunt.
> 
> “I…” I had tried in vain to swallow the lump in my throat and forced myself to meet the icy cold of his impatient blue eyes. “I love you, Mello.”
> 
> One of his brows had shot up, his eyes had been indifferent. He had turned his gaze towards the console controller on the floor.
> 
> “Really?” He had managed to say sounding bored, as he had picked the controller. “Just yesterday you said the only thing you love is video games.” He had rammed the controller into my hand and said, “I preferred that couple.”
> 
> And he had turned and left me feeling stupid with a controller in my hand. I should’ve been mad at him for being such a dick…but I hadn’t been. I had been scared.
> 
> I had thought he would stop speaking to me….but he hadn’t. He treated me exactly like he used to, spoke to me exactly the way he would, stood up for me just like always.
> 
> But that hadn’t lasted long. Only a couple of weeks later he had disappeared. Roger had told me he had decided to quit the orphanage and give up any dreams of being the next L.
> 
> I don’t want to talk about what I did once he left….It’s too bloody embarrassing. But I had managed to silence the part of me that needed his presence.
> 
> That didn’t last forever either. [Fuck you, life…..or should I say thank you?] 
> 
> Four years later I had found him sitting on the steps of my apartment building, red leather white fur lined hoodie soaking and dripping. I had thought it was a homeless person until I had noticed the crucifix his gloved hands were fidgeting with.
> 
> “Mello?” His face shot up at the sound of my voice and I saw the damage the four years had done to him. Slightly more than a quarter of his face had burn marks and my expression must have been horrified because he immediately said, “I know. It’s horrid, isn’t it?”
> 
> “No….it’s fine.” Now that I think about it, that wasn’t even what we should have been talking about after four years of separation.
> 
> Nevertheless, he moved in and I finally found out why he had been absent for so long. And that’s when I realized why he was here, finally, in my presence. He had nowhere else to go. He was alone in the big bad world. Now the idea of Wammy’s House is to make it easy for us to transition from a dependent to independent state, but Mell, the fucktard that he is, had literally thrown himself at the world, joined the mafia, done some drugs, faked doing others [he said he doesn’t like them…he won’t even smoke cigarettes], kidnapped a good number of people, killed a few apparently [he doesn’t seem to like that either…doesn’t like me touching the subject]. If I had my way, I’d slap him and tell him to stop being such an annoying cunt. He thinks he can take on anything and come out unscathed. He always thought that way. At one point, it became so difficult not to say “You can’t take on the whole world y’know.”
> 
> So I said it.
> 
> And his eyes met mine, for the first time in ages. All he said was, “I know.” His eyes didn’t flinch but I knew he meant so much more than just “I know.” He really knew now. He had come inches from dying, gotten half of his face and his shoulder burnt, been thrown into situations where his own choice didn’t even matter, been used and discarded like a condom. He knew. 
> 
> So I found myself feeling guilty. Out of sheer panic I held him, told him he didn’t have to go through it alone. To my surprise, he didn’t push me away. Instead I felt his hands slowly creeping around my waist. I wanted to steal all his fears, all his anxiety, all the pain so he could forget it all.
> 
> In time, everything came rushing back. How I felt in his presence, how he made everything come alive, how much I loved him, everything seemed to come back like it had never been gone. 
> 
> I didn’t want to confess to him again just to be met with another fancy stylized well thought out rejection so I kept my mouth shut, did what he told me to, laughed with him, ate with him, spoke to him. 
> 
> But we had our moments of just silence, where contentment seemed to grip my chest. And when I looked up at him, his glassy blue eyes would meet mine and the corners of his lips would move to smile tiredly at me.
> 
> In one such moment, I wanted to steal his weakness and I found his face in my hands, his eyes locked on mine, looking at me in ways I had till then only dreamt of. Our lips had met innocently, quivered against each other’s, puckered and sucked lightly on each other’s, made a wet pop sound and left a feeling that still turns my brain to sap.
> 
> Yeah, yeah, I know. _OH MY GOD! CONGRATS MAN! THAT’S SO COOL! YOU’RE SO GETTING LAID, MAN!_
> 
> But, y’see, this isn’t a happy story. Unfortunately, for some reason, Mello avoids any and all conversations about our relationship….if we’re in a relationship that is….This is all very confusing. He just doesn’t talk about it. It scares me. And it just unnecessarily adds to my list of embarrassing moments. I kick myself every time I accidentally call him babe or honey or angel. Why you ask? Because his eyebrow shoots up with the same indifferent look he gave me back when he first rejected me.
> 
> It’s different when we make love [or have sex or sleep together…whatever you prefer….why do I even care about Microsoft Word’s preference?]. When we’re going at it, he’s always in such a trance. His skin shines where the little beads of sweat on the catch the light. His lips go blood red and swollen from all the kissing and biting. His nails dig into my back. His hair sticks to his neck and his face, wet with sweat. And his eyes, lidded or not, are always in such a high, like he wants the moment to last forever.
> 
> He calls me his love when the high takes over him. He whispers “take me, my love”, or other variations of the same, into my ear then kisses my neck. And when he says that, I can call him anything and he’d just smile amused at my words.
> 
> Is all this supposed to get rid of my fears? Well it doesn’t. It makes it worse. It confuses me. Does he care or not? Does he love me or not?
> 
> He doesn’t seem to want me to initiate any moves, either. Whenever I make a move on him, he says, “We’ve got work, Matt. Concentrate. Focus.” Now I know that makes sense but hear me out. This once, I tried talking to him about our relationship. We were standing in the balcony. I was smoking. He was enjoying the view.
> 
> “How do you think of us?” I asked out of the blue. “What am I to you?”
> 
> He stared at the city for quite some time not even surprised by my sudden question.
> 
> “Who cares? What does it matter?” he said finally. He turned to look at me. “Aren’t you glad we’re here? Aren’t you happy just to be in this moment with me?”
> 
> “I am.” I replied trying not to think about how good the city lights looked when they danced in his eyes.
> 
> “Then one thing at a time, Matty. We’ll get to that later.”
> 
> And that was the end of it. He makes me so impatient, so scared. I’m scared it’s just a case of cupboard love. I’m scared he’s with me so that I’d help him out. If that is, in fact, the case then, Mello, you should know that if you’d ask, I’d do anything, without you having to give me anything in return and I know that makes me an idiot but it’s still true….so I suppose I’m an idiot.
> 
> But I’m still happy with him, cupboard love or not. I’m happy that he’s here with me. And hence, dying right now is not okay with me. But if I refuse to do what he says we’ll be over anyways. He’ll leave me. _What do I do now?_ Decisions decisions.
> 
> Whatever, I’m going for it. I want to be there for him, through everything he needs. And he hasn’t been doing very well ever since Ridner told him about Near’s plan. He’s been anxious and angry.  
>  Yesterday we did it so many times that 25th of January should hereby be proclaimed international sex day. Now before you think “what’s the connection between sex and his anxiety”, let me tell you. He cried before we made love. He buried his head in my bare chest and bawled like a lost naked child. He clawed at his own back and chest until I yanked his hands away. He kissed me, grabbed and groped me like nothing else could cure him of his anxiety.
> 
> “Don’t stop.” He said every time I was about to finish or seemed to get tired. “Keep going.” And his nails pinned me to my place over him, inside him.
> 
> He even spent more time than usual in bed with me after the sex. Usually he would turn around and go to sleep or stay for a few minutes and then make his way to the bathroom. Last night he stayed with me for two whole hours after the sex. His temple rested against my cheek, the back of his shoulder against my chest, the fingers of one hand entwined with mine, that of the other tracing swirls around my belly button while I smoked.
> 
> I hope I don’t get killed. I hope I don’t get caught. I hope I get away from the heat. I hope I make it to him again. I hope I get to laze about in his arms again. I hope to make him happy.
> 
> That hope is worth living for, worth struggling for. I know what you’re thinking “Is making him happy worth dying for?” 
> 
> Yes, his smile is to die for. And my decision is made.
> 
> If I am to die I hope he comes across this. I don’t know why. But if you are reading this, Mello, and if I’m dead, know that I love you, know that you have been the light of my life and that I regret nothing, not one thing. So make sure you don’t let my death be in vain. Wipe those tears and smile for me.
> 
> _Cheh!_ …now that I think about it, it’ll be fine. He’s right. They’ll arrest me. Then he’ll get me out of jail and I’ll laugh about how retarded my fears were and everything I wrote and how anxious I had made myself. I suppose it was just a fear and I just needed to let it out. It’ll be alright, I’m sure.
> 
> But I’ll leave this on for Mello to find….just in case.  
> 


	2. Unspoken Love

## Chapter 2: Unspoken Love

Near stared long and hard at the laptop wondering whether Mello had read Matt’s journal. He couldn’t figure it out but decided it didn’t matter either way. He left the laptop finding the sting of pity pricking at him rather annoying. He’d rather not have too much to do with it.

He looked around the room for any other signs of their lives beyond the Kira case. Why he was looking for that specifically was unknown to him. But he guessed he preferred to think that their lives were bigger than the case that they had sacrificed themselves for.

He figured, judging from the neglected ashes and the littered ash tray, that Matt’s occasional stolen cigarette breaks from back at Wammy’s had become an actual addiction long before his death.

“Linda was wrong.” He found himself thinking. “Lung cancer didn’t kill Matt.”

It was a bullet, not even all the bullets, but just one that took Matt’s life, the one that could have brushed by him if it hadn’t been for the one that had caught him in the shoulder. Near recalled seeing Matt’s death on the news from a detached top view caught by a surveillance camera. He saw Matt recoil and step backward as a bullet found his shoulder sending his head at an angle at which point another bullet forced its way into his forehead. Near saw as Matt’s head flung back, his hair, made to look a gloomy greenish color thanks to the poor video quality, flew back, a few other bullets found their way to his chest, one to his collar bone and he stumbled against his open car door and fell, leaving his car decorated with web-like patterns where the bullets that had missed him had hit his car. 

Near had stopped wondering how much it hurt as soon as the bullet had found Matt’s head.

“He won’t feel the rest, now.” Near had thought. “He won’t think, now.”

He remembered wondering what madness drove Matt into risking his life like that. But he should have known. The madness was Mello….or his love for Mello, more like.

Near thought Matt a fool for doing what he had done. But more than that Near respected Matt for his foolish courage. He didn’t possess such inhibition to fear as Matt and Mello did. They were never afraid to die for what they loved. That was strength Near could never imagine possessing. Whether it was a good thing that he didn’t possess it or not, he could not decipher. After all, not possessing such manic strength is what helps his survival. But possessing such strength made Mello the most important piece for the game against Kira. Is survival important or courage? Who knows such things?

He thought of Mello’s scarred face, a sheer display of just how far Mello would go for his ambitions, when he had come to take back his photograph. He remembered the barrel of the gun pointing at his back. For a split second Near had thought Mello would pull the trigger but his logical brain had told him otherwise. 

“Mello will consider it.” He had thought. “He’ll intimidate me but he won’t do it.”

When Near’s comrade had put herself between them he had almost wanted to say, “He won’t do it, anyway.” But that would’ve been pushing his luck.

The flat had a lot of Mello in it as well. A lot of crumpled chocolate wrappers lay next to Matt’s overflowing ash tray. A good distance from them on the same table was an abandoned melted chocolate, the bite marks melting away. It sat at the corner of the table where a leather chair stood in wait of an owner that would never come back home.

Near moved towards the chair and sat himself down in it, thinking of Mello’s posture, bent over and slouched from all the late night reading. Mello could read forever. He could cram so much information so fast that Near thought he might make himself go mental from information overload someday. Then again Mello wasn’t exactly the sanest person to have ever lived.

He remembered venturing out of his room one rainy night back at Wammy’s a week after he had been taken in by Roger. Unable to sleep due to the shuddering of his window and the howling of the winds outside he had left his room. He had seen a dim golden light coming from the library and made his way towards it. Pushing the door out of the way he had found the slim girly haired blond they called Mello bent over a bunch of books, yes, a bunch.

Mello hadn’t noticed him so he quietly made his way towards him watching Mello’s tired eyes move over the words in a breezy speed. It was then that Near had hurt his little toe on the Criminal Justice shelf and Mello had looked up.

Tired blue eyes, glassy with wetness and swollen from need to shut down stared at him. The yellow light made Mello look more golden than he usually did and Near would’ve compared him to the stereotypical image of an angel, what with the burning gold of his hair where the light from the lamp shone on it, if it wasn’t for the eye bags stealing his charm.

Considering all that he had heard and seen of Mello in the past week since he had moved to the orphanage, Near had expected a snort followed by, “What the hell are you doing here?” But, in a tired raspy voice, Mello said, “Oh…it’s you.”

“Who were you expecting?” Near had questioned ignoring the throbbing pain in his foot.

“Roger.” Mello had replied throwing his back against the seat and stretching his arms as far as they would reach.

Now that Near pondered, it must’ve been Matt that Mello had been expecting.

“This is quite the challenge, isn’t it?” Mello had asked slouching again. “Our essay question, that is. I like it.”

If Near wasn’t already surprised, he had been at that point. Mello was known for being ruthless and unfriendly to everyone besides Matt.

“No one really knows why he bothers with Matt or why Matt bothers with him.” Linda had told him on their first day. “But I guess it was Matt’s illness.” She had then gone on to explain how when Matt had first moved to Wammy’s he had been sick, physically and mentally. He had been cold and feverish from staying in the streets during the rainy season after running away from his previous orphanage. Besides that, apparently, Matt had been paranoid and wouldn’t even let anyone touch him or even accidentally brush against him without reducing to fits of panic attacks.

“When we were asked who would share a room with him, everyone had been too scared to have a crazy person live with them.” Linda had told him. “After a pretty long awkward silence in which it seemed Matt would have to be kicked out, Mello said that he was willing to share his room….which, mind you, was weird. Mello doesn’t like anyone in his space. And no one ever wants to get too close to Mello. Unless they want to lose some teeth, spend a week in the infirmary or endure a gruesome near death experience.”

“Yes. It’s rather interesting.” Near had replied to Mello’s question brushing aside thoughts, secretly hoping the conversation wouldn’t end there.

And it hadn’t.

“I’m going through L’s old cases.” Mello said picking up a few rogue papers. “I hope you don’t need me to tell you who L is.” Near shook his head when Mello looked up for a reply. “Right,” Mello continued. “His work is so interesting. It’s like the rules of the world don’t apply to him, like he can do anything.” A hunger found its way into the blonde’s eyes. “I’d like that…y’know…to be able to do anything.”

That’s the first and last moment of peace Near remembered between them. A couple of weeks from then they had passed up their papers, two days after which they had received their results and all hopes of ever really knowing Mello had died with that achievement.

Everyone had gathered around Near, peering at his grades, congratulating him, telling him how he was way better than Mello. Some of them even caught up with him later and talked Mello down to him. They probably expected to get on Near’s good side or to get Near to say something just as bad about Mello. He didn’t, though. He couldn’t. He liked Mello just the way he was. But he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t proud of his better grades. After all, ever since his first meeting with Mello, ever since he had heard of Mello, ever since he had found out about Mello’s academic excellence, he had wanted to measure himself against Mello.

His eyes had fallen on the blue eyed devil, a crumpled paper in his fist, rage rich in his eyes. But Mello had said nothing. He had left and since then, the race had been on.

To think that it was now over…

Near felt something hard against the side of his hip and dug through the seat to find a CD hiding under the seat.

He recognized Mello’s cursive immediately. “For Matt.”

Near stared at the shiny disk realizing that Matt had probably never found this. It was too neat and didn’t have the characteristic burn or ash litter of all of Matt’s things. It had been kept safe and hidden to be left unattended only when it was meant to be found. Then Mello must’ve expected Matt to find it after the Takada Kidnapping.

Without further ado Near lunged for Matt’s laptop and slid the disk in the patiently waiting slit on the side of Matt’s laptop. Near settled himself on the floor staring intently at the screen. The disk automatically played its contents.

A video came to life on the screen which showed unmistakably Mello’s leather clad chest leaning in. His rosary lightly tapped against the lens before he moved back and sat himself down in the leather seat where Near had initially found the disk.

He looked at the Near through the screen for a while, unsure how to begin. Near felt his hand touch the screen. At that point Near could’ve compared Mello to a star, the light of one reaching him long after it was dead. The Mello in the screen was just that, an illusion of a dead star to wishfully look up to and ponder at its beauty and might. Looking at stars always filled Near with a slight melancholy. Looking at Mello right now was doing the same.

“Ugh I’d like to say that I don’t know where to begin,” Mello’s strangely masculine voice made Near jump out of his thoughts. “But even that sounds ridiculously cliché. It’s the truth, nonetheless, and guess what?” Mello looked right at Near now and Near had to remind himself that the blonde was speaking to Matt not him. “It gets a lot more cliché from here on out. For instance, I’d like to say that if you are watching this you have either outrun Takada’s body guards or gotten yourself arrested only to be rescued by Near.”

Mello’s eyes dropped as he uttered Near’s name with some difficulty, like even the name tasted bitter on his tongue. His words were dripping with a recovering English accent, which Near presumed had come back to him once he had taken Matt as an accomplice.

“If the latter is the case, I’m sorry I know I said I’d come and get you but I had already decided that we would part ways for a while at this point. Now! Now!” Mello raised his hands up as if to calm someone down. “Before you start throwing cigarettes at the screen, hear me out. I did this for a reason.”

Mello looked down at the chocolate on the arm rest of the seat, picked it up and made himself comfortable, slouching like he always used to. “If I succeed in kidnapping Takada there will be too many people looking for me. It’s all for your safety. If anyone stays with me they won’t be safe so just bear with it for a bit.” He fidgeted with the chocolate bar, turning it over in his hands, then finally sinking his teeth into it. “And that brings us to the final cliché. When you see this I’ll probably be far from your reach. But no matter, it’s just for a couple of months. I assure you I will see you again.” He exerted each word to make sure his listener believed him. “I’ve already sent Near instructions on what to do once the Kira case is over and if you are well then he’s already implementing what I have asked.” Mello smirked at Near through the screen. “Good to have the little twat on our side, huh?”

His smile faded out. “Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, I just want to say that, Matt, I’m really sorry.” The hand gripping the chocolate dropped onto the arm rest. “I’m sorry for leaving you again without telling you first but I left you this.” He waved a hand in the direction of the camera. “And this is…well…this means that I’m not entirely leaving without a word. I will see you again, I promise.” He repeated with the same amount of exertion.

“And guess what’s after that?” He smiled again but this time Near clearly saw the difference between his smile and smirk. He looked playful, a little excited even, not just cocky and hungry. “When I see you again, we’ll move back. Yes, back to England. Remember how you said you’d like to go back and live there someday? So yeah I figured out how we’re going to manage that. Yes, the white haired twat’s involvement was inevitable.” He said with an air of comical regret. “But who cares? We’re still going back. And we’ll live together there and, let me just point out,” He raised a finger as if scolding a child. “I will not tolerate you littering our new place. Clean up after yourself Jee-I mean-Matt, or else you’re sleeping in a kennel like the dog that you are.”

Near couldn’t help but smile a little. Not at the comparison of Matt with a dog but on hearing the first syllable of Matt’s real name.

“Moving on, let me just say this again, I’m really sorry. I couldn’t see any other way.” He took a bite of the chocolate and munched at it for a while. “Also…there’s something that I’ve been thinking about, something that I’ve wanted to tell you for a really long time. – oh the clichés!” He rolled his eyes. “Anyways I feel like now is the right time to say this.”

His back left the leather seat. A slight squeaking sound escaped as he leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees. “I know you’ve been thinking a lot about us, what we are to each other and what all of this means. I’ve been thinking about it too. And also about…that day…back at Wammy’s…” he fidgeted refusing to let his eyes meet the camera. “Do you remember?...when you said you loved me?” He pulled on the fingers of his right glove, removing it halfway and pulling it back on. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time....for years, actually.”

He looked up again and Near found that the hand that had been twirling his hair stopped midway in shock probably. Mello was the most unpredictable person ever. That was for sure. The blue eyed boys eyes were brimming with fear and discomfort. “I’m so sorry, Matt. I hurt you, didn’t I? Don’t just say it’s okay because you deserve to be angry with me. I don’t know why I did it back then, got so rude with you. – Actually,” The blonde straightened and his eyes dropped to his lap again. “I understand why I did it, but it’s not an excuse or even an explanation for hurting your best friend like that. I thought I was above you. I looked down on you. I was wrong.” His eyes met Near’s again and he saw in them a fire of dedication and determination so characteristic only to Mello’s. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Matt. And you’re not a fallback to me. I’m not here because I’d like you to help me with the case….well I like it that you did. But that’s not the primary reason. I’m here, with you, because I love you. And ever since I left I’ve missed you, thought about you, craved you.”

With each statement his eyes narrowed further, his fingers curled further into fists.

“I know I’ve never said it before. But that’s what we are and that’s what you are to me. I thought it’s best to solve your mystery just so you know I love you just as much as you love me. Thank you for everything, Matty.” A smile found its way onto his lips and Near thought that’s what Matt must’ve meant by “smiling tiredly”. “Thanks for believing in me and cheering me on back at Wammy’s. Thanks for loving me. Thanks for loving me even after I went and got half my face burnt…really, I have no idea how you can stand this thing.” His slim gloved hand rubbed against his left cheek where the healing skin lay proud on his otherwise perfect face. “Thanks for dealing with me when I become a mess.” He took a deep breath. “You complete me, Matt and I hope that once this is over we can be in a real relationship.” He grinned. “I’d love to show you off, my perfect boyfriend. Till then,” He left the seat and Near found himself staring at a slim leather wrapped chest again and then the blonde’s neck and finally his face. “I hope no one else sees this.” Mello said just as Near noticed the slight blush on his cheeks. 

Mello pressed his lips against the lens of the camera and then pulling back waved goodbye. The video ended and Near stared at an empty screen.

Another pang of pity left a sour taste on Near’s tongue. He never understood why anyone would do that to themselves; love someone so dearly that it hurt. He wasn’t sure whether he should be happy for them or feel sorry for them.

From the looks of it, Mello never saw Matt’s journal and never knew that Matt knowingly risked his life for Mello. And clearly Matt was too dead to find Mello’s disk and never figured that Mello realized his fears and returned his love. To Matt, Mello’s love would always be unspoken.

Near stood up straight in a hurry. This was way more emotion than he would like to handle in a single day and he decided to pick up Matt’s laptop with Mello’s disk still inside and leave the flat to meet me stationed outside. 

I realize at this point you’re wondering who I am. And I will tell you, though I doubt it is of any importance so I would rather not give you any elaborate introductions to myself and put it as plainly as I can. I am Halle Ridner, an FBI agent in collaboration with both Near and Mello during the Kira investigation. And I am writing this in collaboration with Near or the current and rightful L.

These are real personal accounts of the agents Mello and Matt, written in the hopes that someday someone might come to find and know unnecessary details about the felons involved in the Kiyomi Takada kidnapping case. I’d say something like “these were men that gave their lives for justice” which, from what Near tells me, would be characteristic of the original L but I’m sure Mello would despise any such clichés and hence I’d rather avoid the farce.

To put it simply this is just an insight into their lives. You are allowed to feel whatever you want about it. You are allowed to hate them and never investigate how Mello burnt Takada in that delivery van without having left his own seat. You’re allowed to ignore how two men could be smart enough to make gas bombs, fake IDs and plan a kidnapping but be so mental as to burn themselves alive. You are allowed to ignore the coincidence that a few days after this incident Kira entirely disappeared. 

On the contrary you could realize that this, now, historical occurrence wasn’t about Kira or the Kira case or L but was a web of stories intertwined together and shoved into a current by a manic murder spree. This wasn’t a mere interesting cat and mouse chase. It was a story of smarts and cunning, fate and misfortune, love and loss.

But, as Near likes to remind me, this account isn’t about Kira or L or Near or even me for that matter. We aren’t important in this story. This account is merely the only act of kindness we can now perform for our dead comrades, an ode to their strengths, an account of their fears and feelings for each other. It might have been tainted, impossible, broken, marred with bruises of their past but it was love, nonetheless.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you think about it. Thanks for reading.


End file.
